


Baby Steps

by heartachesbythenumber



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian and Bull are good boys, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Surgeon is Surgeon's name I don't make the rules, Trust Issues, bad title is bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartachesbythenumber/pseuds/heartachesbythenumber
Summary: Lavellan's trust didn't come easy, least of all when it came to Tevinter mages.





	Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> This probably needs another rewrite, but that's a job for less-sleepy me.

Word travelled quickly in Thedas, especially when every noble and farmhand had their ear pressed to the ground, waiting for either the end of the world, or a second war to break out. …Although, with Haven destroyed, that second point was probably moot.

Noah woke early to shouts coming from the courtyard below. He stumbled out of bed, grabbing yesterday’s trousers from the floor and pulling them on as he hopped towards the stairs. Whoever had decided to keep the nicest quarters on the topmost floor of Skyhold had been an idiot. A tactician, possibly, but still an idiot. By the time Noah reached the bottom floor, peppered with the hushed conversation of early risers, he had mostly calmed himself. Whatever had happened was clearly under control by now. Even so, Noah jogged to the courtyard, a gathering of unfamiliar faces meeting his. Soldiers stalked through the modest crowd, helping a slew of limping figures in tattered clothes make their way towards the castle. He searched through faces until his eyes locked with one of his own.

“Commander,” Noah called, “what’s going on?”

“Inquisitor. A group of refugees has arrived from Crestwood.”

Noah nodded, straightening himself. _Inquisitor_. He was still trying to get used to that.

As the soldiers cleared around them, leading the refugees up to the castle itself, Noah’s eyes locked onto the body of a woman, lying on the ground. Dorian and Cassandra hovered over her, the latter shifting uncharacteristically on her feet. Leliana stood nearby, speaking quietly with one of the refugees.

As Cullen followed Noah’s gaze, he bowed his head sheepishly. “She, ah… One of my men tried to help her down from her mount, and she panicked. She attacked, so we had no choice but to subdue her.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a simple sleeping spell,” Dorian called, standing and moving towards them. “Maker knows she likely needs it, judging by the bags under her eyes. Honestly, you people are already so small you look to be at death’s door, I can’t imagine…”

Noah had stopped listening, instead studying the girl. She was elven, and very small indeed. Her shoulders shook slightly as she slept, curled up in a heap on the grass. Old scars crisscrossed down her arms like a mockery of vallaslin. Noah cursed under his breath, and Dorian finally stopped his babbling. He seemed to be studying Noah, who tried his hardest to ignore it.

“It appears she is an escaped slave,” Cassandra stated curtly, while steadfastly refusing to meet Noah’s eyes.

_Ah, so that’s what this is about._

Noah jumped as Bull’s warm hand appeared on his side – he’d never solved how a man of that size could move so silently – but he quickly relaxed into it, grateful for the touch.

 “Set her up in the medical tent with Surgeon. Tell her to check for injuries, before the girl wakes up.”

“On it, Boss.” Before Cullen could move to carry out the order, Bull was stooped low beside her, carefully lifting the small figure into his massive arms. He was so much gentler than he seemed, and Noah smiled.

Beside him, Dorian tittered. “Surprised he still calls you that,” he said quietly. “From what I hear, you’re not exactly the one in charge in the relationship…”

Noah ground his teeth together, fighting the warmth rushing to his cheeks. “Shut your mouth, _magister_. That is none of your business.” This only made the mage laugh harder, and Noah turned on his heels. He didn’t need this.

“ _Altus!_ ” Dorian called after him.

Least of all from an insufferable Vint.

 

* * *

 

 

Noah was slumped on the battlements, his forearms resting on its rocky edgings, fingers idly tearing bits off a small loaf of bread. It was noon by the time he’d gotten everyone organized, making sure to send word to the refugees’ families, assuring their protection. He had tried to help them himself, but Bull quickly shooed him away. (“A late breakfast is better than nothing.”)

His gaze flicked across the courtyard, watching mages treat the injured. The trek to Skyhold was a precarious one, as the survivors of Haven would attest, and very few refugees had made it here unscathed. Josephine was quietly writing as a man dictated his note to her, his good arm strung up in a sling. From his perch, Noah couldn’t pick up much from the general hum of conversation.

He certainly hadn’t expected a former slave on his doorstep, though it was almost worth it to see Cassandra shuffling, as she didn’t know. Tact was definitely not her forte. Only she and Leliana knew where Noah had come from, and true to her word, Cassandra was trying to keep it that way.

They’d realized it almost immediately, when Noah had woken up confused and in chains, shaking and begging them not to turn him over to his master. He hated himself for showing that weakness, and was trying to make up for it ever since, but he couldn’t help it. Noah couldn’t process a word they’d said until he’d calmed down, and Maker only knows how long that had taken. But even when he was still a prisoner, and their only suspect behind the Conclave’s destruction, the pair had agreed to keep it a secret, and Noah had been grateful ever since.

Well, he’d been grateful after he’d stopped suspecting that they were plotting to betray him.

Noah knew he’d have to tell Bull at some point, but… later. “Later” was what he told himself every time it came to mind, unwilling to admit the things he had been party to in a past life, unwilling to see what Bull’s reaction would be. He knew the man would accept him for who he was, but Noah feared what else he might catch in Bulls eye. Pity, anger at Noah’s weakness, disgust for touching places a filthy Vint had once claimed as his own... Noah shuddered.

_One moment he was staring hungrily into Bull’s half-lidded eye, hands floundering at the qunari’s belt to free his erection. Bull had leaned in close, one hand on his lower back and the other tangled in his hair. “Down,” he commanded, “kneel for me.” Noah had dropped to his knees, though he couldn’t tell if it was out of ingrained obedience or his legs simply giving out. He began to shake, his breath puffing out in uneven gasps, eyes wide but unseeing._

Kneel, _his mind had echoed,_ Kneel for your master, pet.

_It had taken Bull a moment to parse the change in Noah’s breathing, to realize that his pants had turned to sobs. When he saw the gleam of tears on the elf’s face, he’d dropped to a knee himself, hands at Noah’s sides in an instant. “Shh,” he’d rumbled, fingers cupping his cheeks, “I’m here, kadan. I’m here. You’re safe.”_

True to his word, Bull had never pried. He’s simply checked to make sure Noah still remembered his watchword, then dropped the subject entirely. Noah owed him the world for that. He was still trying to convince himself that he deserved such a gentle lover.

“Inquisitor.”

Noah started, turning his head to see a flash of red hair join him on the ramparts.

“You know, if he’s bothering you, he doesn’t have to stay.”

Noah frowned. “If who’s bothering me?”

“The mage,” Leliana said simply.

He followed her stare to the courtyard below, where Dorian was examining one of the refugees’ ankles. Idly, Noah wondered how long he’d been out there.

“No,” he said quietly, expression softening. “No, it’s all right. I don’t think he means any harm, and it seems he’s intent on pulling his weight. Just... keep an eye on him.”

“Always,” Leliana said, a small smile on her face as she pushed off the battlements.

Beneath them, Dorian leaned in close to whisper to the wounded man, whose chest began jumping with laughter. He played the role of a haughty Tevinter well, but inherited none of the cruelty that seemed to be a prerequisite for any respected magister. While Dorian’s presence still left a ghost of a pit in Noah’s stomach – and while they clearly didn’t see eye-to-eye – the man seemed… not trustworthy, certainly not yet, but kind. It wasn’t an alliance Noah had expected, but he wasn’t about to throw it away, either.

“Perhaps we should send…” Noah trailed off as he turned, realizing he was alone. He smiled to himself, and headed for the stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

By evening, Skyhold had settled, save for the odd fire-lit gathering of soldiers and farmers, who traded stories and jokes along with cards. Hearty laughter fluttered in from Skyhold’s windows, echoing through the dimly lit halls. Noah trudged up the spiral staircase, clinging to the fact that his day was nearly over. His legs whined, a testament to how much running around he’d done that day, despite never leaving the castle grounds. More importantly, their new arrivals were officially settled, and that was enough to lift his spirits. The last item on his list was to meet with Fiona, hoping the mages might share some extra lyrium supplies with a few ex-Templars in the medical tents.

But once Noah arrived at the library, Fiona was gone.

_Of course she’s gone – sundown was hours ago, you overtired fool. She’s probably gone to her room, as you should be doing._

Instead, he found Dorian lounging on a chaise by the window, head propped up as he gazed outside. Noah hesitated, wondering to himself if it was worth the effort to make his presence known, when Dorian spoke.

“They seem to be getting on well,” he said quietly, unmoving.

“Yes,” Noah said, leaning against the wall. “I’m glad they found us.”

Dorian didn’t reply, still not moving.

“I noticed you were helping with the wounded.”

“Yes, well,” he said, shifting slightly, “I can’t just sit here and look pretty all _day_ , you know. It gets tiring.”

Noah chuckled despite himself. “Well, I appreciate it. I recognize I have been… mistrustful of you in the past, but I’m sure you can understand why.”

Dorian sighed. “You know,” he said evenly, “not _everything_ from Tevinter is awful. I, for one, am actually quite nice when you get to know me.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Dorian actually laughed. “Oh stop that, or you’ll make me homesick.”

Noah winced, but held his tongue.

They stayed there in silence for several minutes, the only sound the energetic flit of conversation drifting in from outside. It was a warm feeling, knowing they could be a refuge of sorts while the world was hellbent on tearing itself open.

“That was Tevene, earlier.”

Noah’s gaze snapped back to the mage, brows knitted together. “Excuse me?”

Finally, Dorian turned to look at him, something curious in his expression. “ _Fasta vass._ You said it under your breath this morning.”

Noah flinched.

“Now,” he drawled, nonchalantly turning his attention back to the window, “for what reason would an elf speak Tevene?”

Noah let the question hang in the air as he stood stock-still, trying to decide if he should run or have the mage swear to secrecy.

After a beat, he found himself doing both, feet stepping back even as he spoke. “What do you want?”

Dorian whipped around, and to Noah’s surprise, a look of genuine hurt flashed across the mage’s face. “ _No,_ no, I–” He sputtered, hands waving in front of him, before sighing. “That’s not what I meant. I… I wanted to apologize.”

Noah’s frown tightened. “For what? On behalf of Tevinter? I doubt they’ll back you on that.”

“For _presuming_ , Inquisitor. And for claiming that you had no authority to speak for the slaves. It was…” Dorian covered his mouth with one ringed hand, eyes searching the floor. “It was insensitive of me.”

Noah’s mind flashed back to Haven, back to their heated debate on slaves. Dorian hadn’t _supported_ slavery, but he’d honestly claimed it was a viable alternative to poverty.

“You were right,” Dorian finished, eyes again level with Noah’s. “Right about the Alienage, and right to be upset with me. I saw the way that girl screamed this morning. No one deserves that.”

Noah had no words for a moment. He simply nodded and looked down, jaw working.

“I appreciate the apology, but it doesn’t really matter. So long as you’re useful to the Inquisition and you continue helping people, you can treat me however you like. All I want is for this war to be over.”

There was that word again. _War_.

“Fair enough – although, I do hope we can start again. Failing to win someone over with charm is truly disarming, I don’t know how the rest of you do it.”

Fighting a smirk, Noah turned to leave, pausing at the top of the staircase. He turned back, opening his mouth to speak.

“Don’t worry, Inquisitor,” Dorian said, smiling softly. “I’ll keep it between us.”

Noah nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Dorian,” he said, and turned again for the stairs.

For the first time, hearing his new title had felt liberating, reminding Noah that things were different now. _He_ was different now.


End file.
